


We Can Both Make Fun Of Distance

by bloodsugar



Series: My Heart Only Beats For You Without Stopping, Telling Me I’m Ready To Go [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bayern München, Borussia Mönchengladbach, Bundesliga, M/M, RPS - Freeform, rated T for I barely resisted writing phone sex, why are these fuckers so adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going back to Munich after the World Cup celebrations is, Manuel assumes, sort of like the day after you took ecstasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Both Make Fun Of Distance

**Author's Note:**

> "Lucky you were born that far away, so we can both make fun of distance." Yes, I went there. :D Ahem, I mean hi, hello there. This is the next installment to the My Heart Only Beats For You Without Stopping, Telling Me I’m Ready To Go series and I really hope you all like it. Big thanks to everybody who left me feedback! Looking forward to your comments on this too :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going back to Munich after the World Cup celebrations is, Manuel assumes, sort of like the day after you took ecstasy. His life is waiting for him there, and he is vaguely aware of the things he has to look forward to, but what he has just been through – hours, days ago, haunts him in the best and worst of ways. Winning the World Cup and celebrating for 3 days straight, first with team mates and alcohol, then with a team mate and sex, has the power to do that, the goal keeper realizes.

 

The first day he wakes up in his own bed, his first instinct is to look to his side, fully expecting to see Christoph lying in the bed next to him or at least lying in a single bed across the room like in Brazil. But there is no Chris and it’s like coming down from a high, expecting to crash any second. Manuel would call the boy, but he doesn’t want to be desperate and clingy. Never mind the fact that he spent the last two days at a hotel in Berlin being pretty damn desperate and clingy with the kid, even if it was in a sexual way.

 

It had been glorious, too. Spent their time rolling around in bed - kissing, talking, having sex, pausing only for food and bathroom breaks. To Manuel’s true delight they’d showered together too, and even without shower sex it had been a real pleasure just having Chris’ lean, wet body pressing up against his as they soaped each other up.

 

Manuel’s fingers twitch with the effort not to call the younger man but he resists. Maybe Chris doesn’t like phone calls or something, it’s entirely possible, the goal keeper thinks to himself.

 

He has an early lunch with Kathrin instead. They talk about what the past couple of days since returning from Brazil have been like for her and what she’s been up to. In many ways Manuel envies her – she has a life outside of the public eye, a level of privacy only tainted by her relationship to him. But when they are apart, she’s free, truly free to be herself and do whatever she wishes, unlike him.

 

Manuel hesitates only briefly to tell her about Christoph. “There are things I can not give you.” She’d told him once, after he admitted to her about being bisexual. “So you can get them elsewhere, I will accept it, I just don’t need to hear the details.” She knows him well, always did, and it is that freedom she gives to him that is one of the many reasons why they’ve been together so long.

 

He tells her for the sake of being open and honest with each other, as they always have been. Usually in such cases Kathrin just smiles at him and changes the topic, but this time is different. Today she gives him a thoughtful look, and leans in closer.

 

“Do you like him?” She asks, a certain note in her tone beside the curiosity that Manuel can not quite place. He tells her Chris is a great team mate and a wonderful person and that he’s fun to be around, too. “Do you like him?” Kathrin presses, her face taking on a semi-stern expression.

 

Manuel tells her ‘yes’ because he does, and she nods, almost to herself, as though she’s storing the knowledge away.

 

Later he drops her off at her place and she doesn’t ask him to come inside. Her kiss goodbye is slow and intent.

 

 

 

 

Manuel comes back home and makes it until two in the afternoon before he’s texting Christoph.

 

_**Hey, how is your first day back?** _ He types it fast and sends it before he can start antagonizing over hi or hey, which is better.

 

For an extended moment he just lingers there in the middle of his living room, phone in hand, waiting for the reply. Then he figures the kid could be busy with whatever so he tosses his phone on the couch and goes into the kitchen for some orange juice. There is no reply when he comes back, so he turns on ESPN and watches American “footballers” shove at each other on the field. The sport makes no sense to Manuel, but maybe that’s just his lack of interest in it.

 

He is contemplating going for a run when his phone buzzes. _Finally_ , he thinks, his heart jumping a little in his chest before he pulls himself together.

 

_**It’s like waking up after a night of great partying and having nothing to do.** _ Is Chris’ reply, at which Manuel finds himself grinning a little. It’s almost as good a comparison as his ecstasy theory.

 

_**I know, same here.** _ He texts back, briefly pondering if he should just call the midfielder and tell him he has barely stopped thinking about his hot young body since they kissed goodbye yesterday morning.

 

_**What are you up to?** _ Chris’ text appears before Manuel can grow the balls to just call like an adult. He’s isn’t even into texting.

 

_**Watching football, American.** _

 

There is another pause, then:

 

_**Huh?** _

 

Manuel cringes at his own bad grammar and corrects himself. _**Watching American football.** _

 

Chris sends him a grinning emoticon straight away to which the goalkeeper has no idea how to respond. He is almost getting into the game, trying to figure out what the difference between it and rugby really is, when the next text comes.

 

_**Can you even follow that game? ;)** _

 

Manuel snorts, imagining Chris winking at him cheekily. _**Do not underestimate me, grass hopper.** _ He waits a moment, wanting to leave a moment of suspense for the kid, and then adds: _**No.** _

 

He gets another laughing emoticon for his honesty, then nothing after that. Is this how texting works with kids these days? You drop the conversation mid way and go about your day? If that’s what they’re doing, Manuel may as well do something productive with it.

 

 

 

 

 

He ends up going to Bayern’s practice in mid-afternoon for the hell of it, despite being ‘on vacation’. He has a few days free here in Munich, why not keep in shape in the best way he knows how to. Truth is, this World Cup gave him a taste of something big and exciting. He wants to relive it and playing football is how he’ll do it, more or less.

 

He’s walking onto the pitch when a strong hand slaps Manuel hard on the shoulder.

 

“What are you doing here? Can’t go a day without making midfielders and strikers’ blood run cold?” It’s Jérôme of all people, at whom Manuel stares dumbly for a second.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the US?” He asks as they move further into the pitch, shoulders brushing together companionably. Jérôme grins at him, shaking his head.

 

“That’s not for a good five days.” He explains, moving his head from side to side, stretching his neck. “I was going to relax today but I’m feeling the itch.” The defender gives Manuel a look. “You too, huh?”

 

Manuel nods at him, fixing his gloves so that they’re tighter around his wrists.

 

“It’s the cup.” Jérôme adds conversationally, jogging a little at the goal keeper’s side. “Even Thomas is here.” He points across the pitch where Thomas Müller is balancing a football on his head while, as it appears, eating a protein bar. It’s not his usual type of training, but hey, at least he couldn’t resist coming to practice either.

 

It’s an hour later, when they’re taking a break in the shade on the bench when Manuel receives a text from Chris again.

 

_**Miss me terribly, do you? :D** _

 

Manuel smiles in spite of himself at that, slouching back against with a passing glance over at Jérôme who’s sitting a couple of feet away with Martínez and Alaba.

 

_**What gave you that idea?** _ The goal keeper sends, but as he reads it over he hesitates if his usual well-meaning teasing comes through, so he adds an emoticon that is sticking its tongue out.

 

A few minutes pass by in which most of the other players end their breaks and resume training. Manuel stays put, feeling lazy and remembering the past few days. He wants to re-live them already.

 

Jérôme slides closer next to him, yawning and stretching. “What a day.” He hums, stretching his long legs out. “Almost too ordinary…”

 

“Yeah…” Manuel sighs a little, because he is allowed to feel nostalgic.

 

His phone buzzes again.

 

_**My mistake.** _

_**What about the cup? You must miss that cause I miss it already.** _

 

The texts come right after one another and the goal keeper vaguely thinks that’s some fast typing on Chris’ part.

 

_**Definitely.** _ He types back. _**It was hot and glorious.** _ Now he isn’t just talking about the cup and wonders if the younger man can pick up on it.

 

Jérôme shifts next to him and Manuel turns to find the defender looking at him, eyebrows raised.

 

“What?” Manuel asks him, stiffening a little.

 

“I asked when you came back.” Jérôme says, and the smile he gives the goal keeper is telling in many ways, all of which make Manuel feel on the spot.

 

“Yesterday afternoon, I guess.” He shrugs, like he isn’t aware that everyone else left the hotel the previous day, making himself and Christoph the only ones to stay another night.

 

Jérôme is nodding at him, and Manuel can swear he sees the corners of his lips twitch. “Mhm.”

 

“What?” The goal keeper asks, more sharply than he should.

 

“Nothing.” The defender stands, kicking his legs out one by one in preparation for training.

 

Manuel’s phone buzzes again, twice, and he opens the text without thinking.

 

**It was glorious.**

**And very, very hot.**

 

Momentarily the goal keeper finds himself assaulted by an avalanche of memories of Chris’ body against his, his tightness around him, his noises of pleasure resonating through the air.

 

Jérôme’s voice brings him out of it shortly. “It’s just that…” the defender pauses and grins “We did share a wall at the hotel.” He then winks at Manuel like this is a regular session of guy-talk between them and he hasn’t just insinuated he heard his fellow team mate have sex with another team mate of theirs. Before Manuel can stop gaping at him and respond, Jérôme runs off, chuckling as he goes.

 

Manuel would worry about exposure and scandals but it doesn’t seem like that kind of situation, and he needs to text Chris back anyway.

 

 

 

 

It is well after nine that evening, after Manuel has had dinner with his friends and has come back home, when he gets another random text from Chris.

 

_**So how was your first day back?** _

 

Manuel takes a moment to imagine where Christoph is texting him from – maybe the boy is lying in his bed, legs spread out relaxed and lazy; maybe he is out with some people and sending Manuel a text is more appealing to him than their company. The goalkeeper isn’t sure which of these options is more to his liking, so he decides to figure it out.

 

_**It was alright. Where are you at?** _

 

The next text comes in pretty much straight away. _**Home, you?** _

 

_**Same.** _ Manuel goes to send, then adds _**What are you wearing?** _ only partly aiming to be humorous.

 

For Chris’ credit though, the younger man takes this silly text-flirting in stride.

 

_**What do you want me to be wearing?** _

 

Manuel smirks, relaxing where he’s sitting on the couch. _**Nothing.** _ He types, and then selects a smirking emoticon to go with it.

 

_**Ah, too bad, I just put on my chicken suit…** _ Is Christoph’s reply, and before he knows it Manuel is laughing, out loud.

 

God, this kid really is something. Manuel could get used to texting if it always proves to be this entertaining.

 

He goes to bed that night with a smile on his face, his phone’s screen still illuminating the room with Chris’ latest text.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
